


Geiszler Flop

by Cân Cennau (cancennau)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Cats, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Ghost Drifting, M/M, Post-Movie, Pre-Slash, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancennau/pseuds/C%C3%A2n%20Cennau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt has a funny way of showing people he trusts them. Hermann's not entirely sure what to make of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Geiszler Flop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cephalopod_groupie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cephalopod_groupie/gifts).



> Plotless fluff I wrote up for cephalopod_groupie to make them feel better. :)

Hermann settled into his pillow laden bed with a relaxed sigh. The party following the closure of the breach was going on well into the night, and looked to not be ending until the early hours of the morning. Not being much of a party goer himself, Hermann had only stayed for the first hour, before begging off on an aching leg and going back up to his room. And yet, there was a part of him that wished he had stayed. He could not stop thinking about how Newt had not removed his arm from around him for the entire thing, or the sad look Newton had gave him when he mentioned leaving-

 _It’s the Drift,_ Hermann told himself firmly. _It’s just the Drift_.

The drift had left some lingering reminders, after all. Hermann now knew things he never wanted to know about, like Metallica and kaiju kidneys and the best way to eat pot noodle in bed without spilling. Knowing all these new things about Newt, about his memories, it wasn’t surprising he felt a need to be closer to him. But he wouldn’t go. He wasn’t some desperate wanton wretch who would hang off Newt’s arm for the entirety of the party. Even if he had dreamed of being on the other man’s arm for some time-

Hermann grabbed a book a book from his bedside cabinet and began reading it to stop that train of thought in its tracks. Thinking of his slight - _very_ slight! - infatuation with the man was not going to help matters. It would go, as all things tended to do in his life, and it wasn’t as if Newt would accept his advances anyway. Newton was a _rockstar,_ or as close to one as a scientist could be, and had the pick of the bunch. What would he want with an grumpy old mathematician with a gammy leg who spent half his time needling him?

A niggling memory wormed its way to the forefront of his mind before he could stop it, a memory that wasn’t his own, with two men in a small alcove, smoke clouding them into mere silhouettes but the shadow of several pint glasses unmistakeable, and Newt’s voice calling above the din that was almost there-

“ _I’ll take anyone who’ll have me, really, but I really thought he was it, that Hermann-”_

Hermann angrily flicked the pages on his book and picked a chapter, and started reading again.

_That’s out of context. Not helpful._

A few minutes into his reading, he heard the door open and shut, and he automatically stopped reading and tensed up. He listened to the quiet air for a moment, until a slight jangle of bells and a quiet _mrrrup_ came from around the corner. _Misa_ , Hermann thought, settling back into the pillows.

Misa was Tendo’s cat - well, he said Tendo’s, but that was only because he fed her and was on all her documentation. In actual reality, Misa acted like the Shatterdome’s cat, and it wasn’t unusual to find her in various nooks and crannies of the Dome. Almost invariably she would spend the nights in Hermann’s room, and was so predictable that everyone on their floor knew to open Hermann’s door and let her in to save him getting up. Tendo had often joked that Hermann was her favourite, but Hermann wasn’t totally convinced - he had more than once found her buried in the pocket of Newt’s dissection apron as he worked (Hermann had on several occasions told Newt how unhygienic and dangerous that was, but he didn’t seem to care).

 _Newton used to have a cat_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully. A vision of white fur and blue eyes flashed across the front of his brain. _She was deaf and didn’t like flutes-_

Hermann slammed a lid on his thoughts before he could learn more about Newt’s old cat, and stuck his nose back into his book.

The bed dipped as Hermann continued to read, and he automatically lifted the book up a little so that Misa could wriggle underneath and settle lap his lap. Absentmindedly, he stroked the weight on top of him with his thumb. Misa’s fur was wet and oddly long for the time of year - Herman made a mental note to tell Tendo to have it clipped in the near future. His nails scratched lightly at Misa’s scalp as he ran his fingers through the long hair, dipping lower to scratch at the sweet spot on her back that she loved-

His fingers met soft skin.

Hermann froze.

This was not a cat.

There was a slight scuffle and a loud _meow_ as Misa scrambled up onto his desk and made herself at home on some of his notes, giving him a very dirty look for not having her usual space free. Hermann blinked at the cat, not fully comprehending what exactly he was seeing. If Misa was there, then… Heart in his mouth, Hermann slowly closed his book, and looked down at the weight in his lap.

For a moment, Hermann wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing. But the white shirt and the brightly tattooed arms were unmistakeable - Newt was lying in his lap, his face squished into his stomach. His glasses were not on his face - a quick check over his body showed they were tucked into his back jeans pocket. His shoes were gone too, as was one of his socks, and from the slight smell of sweet liquor Hermann guessed there was probably some kind of drinking game involved. But the more pressing issue was the fact that a very drunk Newt was pressed rather snugly into his lap, and he seemed very disinclined to move.

 _Geiszler flop_ , his a voice in his mind replied, coming from a memory of an old man that Hermann sure wasn’t his own and yet he recognised. The images in his mind settled on a teenage Newt lying across the lap of an unrecognizable man, fingers thumbing away at a hand-held device. _He trusts you, boy._

“Newton?” Hermann asked, his voice a little strangled.

Newt let out a snuffling snore. Hermann’s lip curled almost on instinct.

 _Great_ .

Under normal circumstances, Hermann would not have hesitated in throwing him off the bed after giving him an earful. In fact, he was half tempted to do so now. He ran his hands down Newt’s side, trying to find the best place to flip the other man at least onto the other side of the bed, if not the floor. But just as he found the right places, the right pressure points, he found that he didn’t really want Newt to stop being close to him after all.

 _It’s just the Drift_ , Hermann tried telling himself again, _just the remnants of drifting with him_. But that line of thought didn’t help any, and with a huff of frustration, Hermann threw himself back on his pile of pillows. All night the Drift had been haunting him, making him crave Newton’s presence, trying to cajole him into doing things and being places he was not used to being in. And now he was stuck in an entirely unwelcome situation with Newt and his treacherous mind couldn’t even make a half-hearted attempt at pretending it didn’t want Newt there!

...Well, maybe it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Hermann had used to crave Newt’s presence as a younger man, when the letters flew thick and fast between them. And despite their initial dislike, Hermann had often half hoped to see Newt at various science conferences every year. And even he could not pretend his heart had not skipped a beat when he heard who he would be partnered with in the K-Science Division. But he had filed them away, imagining that any such… _development_ in their relationship would result in a tragic end due to their conficting personalities. But it didn’t stop the thoughts from manifesting, from that secret part of his head that was almost _purring_ with contentment at Newton being so near...

With a start, Hermann noticed his fingers had started combing through Newt’s hair again.

His hands paused for a moment, before he let out a sigh.

Being careful not to jostle the other man too much, Hermann slid his body down the bed until Newt’s head lay on his chest, and his shoulders were supported by the pillows. Newt snuffled, his fingers flexing and knotting themselves in the armholes of his sweater. Hermann wrapped his arms loosely around Newt’s shoulders, one hand still buried in his hair. He rolled his head back onto the mound of pillows and shut his eyes.

One night couldn’t hurt.

They just stopped the apocalypse after all.


End file.
